the lie of the fair
by her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks
Summary: Her hand is in their direction. Her hand was law, it was the voice of why and how. Not revealing much, but giving just enough to keep you questioning. Now, there's nothing more innocent than what's been heard before, because now that hand is death.
1. prologus

The sun is strange. She's expecting to suddenly dissolve into nothing, but it never happens.

How does she know where she's going? It's hard to trust that girl's word. Of course, all she's done is help, the walking girl has no reason to think ill of anything she's told her. But it's hard to stay steady after everything's flipped over. All promises were tables bolted to the floor, like in the eating place—supposed to stay put. It's almost as if Amaranda had pushed them over.

But she's unable to help that she somehow she feels she was responsible for all this, after all, she let the little one dream, she let the little one dance around. She raised her like that. Unready to be a mother, she raised her. She'll never touch any with youth's eyes again. Her touch is rejection.

"Go to the cathedral," the helping girl had slipped a piece of paper into Amaranda's trembling hands made of tears. "You can stay there."

"But Ami, w—" she had taken it and slipped it in the pocket that wasn't covered by the black haired head, buried in Amaranda's stomach. She pulled the little one closer to her, not wanting her to see anything at all, ever, so she would never remember. "I can't stay in one place."

"There's other Fairlies in Orlando," Amilina nodded. "Just us. None of the others. You're safe."

"There's other kinds of evil in other parts of the world," Amaranda swallowed bawls.

"None of them a threat to you," was the response.

There sure are evils, and Amaranda feels cheated that her whole life there's only been one thing wrong with the world and that thing's prying beyond what you're allowed to speak, what you're allowed to breathe. Now, there's feelings like not knowing and seeing this whole world in front of you and you feel like you've gotta look at it all and what you've would've been doing then you're not doing now and and and…

The whiteness of the walls that's surrounded her since memory are no longer walls; they're prison bars, even though she has no clue about how she knows that word. She guesses, the words will be a flood for know on. They're cackling and scheming and all the while being totally silent. It's not that she cares about those still left—not at all—but to think they can be ruined like she was…

Amaranda sees it in the distance—a building with slightly bulging material making the outside, like someone forgot to smooth it down while building it, and a domed cracked white something at the top, standing like it's not permitted to be there, and a window, such a strange, strange thing, catching the light and trapping it like all bad things in the world. It has different colors. There's something innocent in the middle, something she only knows the name because of how it stuck in her mind when she first heard it, like she would need it later. The angel looks like her. She has that look, same as the little one, stolen from above, and put on Earth, and bringing unending illumination and pain to life.

She's lost both of them now. She's lost both of the lights.

Amaranda knows she can't be Amaranda anymore, but it's so darn hard to not be. It's going to be a new life. It's going to be a new life. It's going to be a new life.

Those words are poison, each time it's thought, her eyes burn.

Amaranda stumbles to the steps by her new home, still so young, but feeling old enough to die. She hides her face from the world, hands running through her hair, making supressed sounds to the ground.

"Jes," she whispers in strangled sobs, tears cascading down. "Jes…"


	2. unum: nativitas

**Heh.**

**I HAVE A LOT TO EXPLAIN, I ****KNOW. I just love silent prologues where I say nothing and I leave you.**

**I think it's just flippin great that we've all got different head-canons about the Fairlies. I swear, Ridley's trolling on fanfic probably sure because he leave so many holes in the books for us to fic. (Neon…confess already.) He's always said that he wants to do a Fairlie-centric ****for ages. (Well, get on with it, Rid.) This is my contribution to the fandom. This is my headcanon of how and why.**

**This was thought of back in October. It's been sitting a lot longer than ISW. Thing is, for months I said I was gonna do it in Fall 2013. Then I said I could probably squeeze it in the summer. Then, I picked up the calendar, on the day I finished ISW Epi, beginning of May, and counted out the weeks of summer, and said to myself, It'll probably run over a bit, I'll keep it for Fall. Then I opened my PM to Jessie…and I just froze. I just thought about how ****_old_**** this is. How not Dare or Truth or IMY. A step up from ISW. Heavy, dude. And I said…I'm not pubbing this.**

**Then, there I am, lying in bed, tail end of August, two weeks to go till I have to write something for my first official Fall update, and I say out loud: "I want a multi-chap. …I'm doing TLOTF."**

**"What the heck" is my attitude for this thing. I'm very confident in my writing now, I'm just trying to find my way through keeping a consistent angsty-gray-my-lacy-black-gloves voice. I mean, I'm in a character I'm comfortable with, and a POV and tense I feel good with, so this may be great or this may be terrible. Your choice. I intend to blow your minds, which would maybe turn into one of my proudest accomplishments.**

**I'm not doing song connections, 'cause that turned out be a waste of time that nobody listened to (im not even sure Jessie did it), but just to say, "I'll Try" by Jonatha Brooke is my background music for every single chapter I'm doing. And for some, "Only If for a Night" by Florence + the Machine. Just sayin.**

**I owe many of these chapters to Baltimore, Maryland. I vacationed there last November and you know how August was the real real birth of ISW? This was for TLO. I literally sat there by the gas station in the car and said "Amaranda's here." I just felt it there. Oh, yeah, I'm not misspelling the name. Patience, my darlings. I also was there in May, and I visited Fort McHenry. The Fairlie barracks. I mean, the barracks in my mind/this story doesn't match there, but it helped a lot with just making it realer.**

**I'm gonna try to stay canon. When I reread 5 back in April, I took a look at the first look of Mattie that we get, and I'm like, "Oh." My story was literally the absolute opposite. But I've reread it a couple more times and found ways to make it work somehow. Some things will be cray cray off, some things will be "wheradaheck did that come from", some will hopefully click in your mind. I reference pretty much every Fairlie-huh thing in the series that I've found, but not all, so I never say this, but if something's really really nagging you about a questionable Fairlie question from the series, give it to me. I'm not asking you to flood my PM box but if it's been your life goal to understand why Amanda said this to Finn I'll try to fulfill your wishes? So basically this only applies to Jessie and Neon and Ellie ok btw ellie where are you**

**This is rated T.**** I'm rating it T because of death and heavy themes. This is not NYKK. But nothing explicit, I promise. Some chapters are definitely T, some are K+/T, some are K+. This chapter is T.**

**All will be explained. I won't do a ch13 bikers.**

**You will need Google Translate for this story.**

**the lie of the fair**  
**unum: nativitas**

**_Amaranda - Novem_**

There's screaming in the other room, but Amaranda doesn't cover her ears, because covering your ears is a lie, and all it does is muffle the truth.

She should be scared, as any child would, as any child like her should, because danger is heightened in a way never understood before, and fear is a sin, fear is an event that rarely happens. She's different. Somehow, she understands and sees it as a dark gray something that just sits and waits. Waits for life to seize hold and twist and turn and try to wriggle out the trap they put themselves in in the first place. Basically, everything that the pained one did.

Sursum had blocked the oh so curious doorway that was conveniently settled right in front of Amaranda and said no, you may not enter, sit in the other room if you're so wondering. Don't listen. This is not happening. And not waiting to let her eyes whine she walked to her left and stepped into the room busied by boxes that's a wall away from the other room. The one the noise is coming from.

In the beginning of it all, Korinna had exploded her eyes with alarm and with trembling, terrified footsteps to Sursum, she plugged out "Annalisa, she's coming," as if she was so certain it was a she, as if the pure white walls made sure somehow it was a she.

And Sursum had gotten Kristilee and Milearae to help her carry the groaning poor thing out of the meeting place and into the hallway, a place Amaranda has never seen before. And the little child had trotted behind, wondering why Korinna was so angry she couldn't walk or something, or maybe it's that thing she's been talking about for months and months on end, that could be it. And Sursum had looked back and seen her and flared everything and said, "Go back." But it was almost like she _had_ to say go back. Like she was required to.

But Amaranda said "Why?" and Sursum Annalisa was defeated.

She was allowed to trail behind until Sursum blocked the door and the rest is the present, Amaranda's back pressed against the walls, hugged by two boxes, keeping one in front of her for a barricade, the dangling light swinging swinging swinging. She blinks every time there's something from the other room. She bites her lip to taste the blood, something Sursum never lets anyone show, something that's now a magic trick to Amaranda and stings but doesn't hurt. She tries counting but the numbers are weird sounding when she can't remember any more. Her lips softly open and close, like she's easing them out.

_"…Tribus, quattor, quinque…"_

A bang. It's loud. Then the silence afterward feels like it isn't allowed to be there. Like something fell or something smacked the table. _Smacking the table isn't right, _the list of chastises swirling in her consciousness corrects. Then heavy breathing, relieved breathing, finished breathing.

That may not be the right response, because her stomach does dances, and her hair falls out of her hands. She feels time gradually advancing. It's not sluggish anymore. It's moving.

Amaranda covers her ears to rid of the silence and whispers to her knees, "Finally going."

Shallow breathing in the other room. There's relief and despair somewhere hidden in there. No response from the other three. Then Sursum speaks low: "Female."

And it blows. There's tiny, squeezed out cries in the other room, from a voice much higher than anyone in the barracks. With every wail Amaranda's skin seems uncomfortable, like it doesn't want to be there. A familiar feeling, one coming too often. A cursed twisting in her stomach.

"Amaranda…" Korinna's quickly fading voice leaks from the other room. Sursum Annalisa starts to stutter out something, but words are lost.

The little child rises up tentatively and treads lightly to the door, stepping through the threshold, a transformation from safety to jeopardy. The other door is wide open. She meets the sight of a gray-faced Kristilee and Milearae, looking down to avoid the uneasiness that so easily colors the room. Sursum has her hand on the table, close to Korinna's, like the one lying on the table was trying to hold it but Sursum wouldn't get too close. Sursum tugs Korinna's skirt down. Amaranda tries to see why, but Sursum's eyes disapprove. Korinna is holding something, something squirming and scrawny, its voice harmonizing with the cries Amaranda heard from the other room—now it has a face, tiny and squinted and red, with golden hair matted down and damp, wriggling out of its protector's arms, like it doesn't want to be there. Amaranda doesn't know what it is…but the answer is floating, breaking out of the gray haze, and it's like it's pulling her…or is she pushing it…

Korinna lets out a poignant smile, her tears staining her face, knowing something that she doesn't want to speak. Amaranda gets closer at her head nod, and approaches the misfortune, each step an attack on her fear. She doesn't want to look at the small thing. But she has to.

In a moment of looming dread, Korinna calmly extends her arms to Amaranda, the small thing nearing, and Amaranda blindly accepts the gift…or curse…It's slippery, the small thing, and she hangs tight, not knowing what emotion to show on her face.

"Her name is Jesamae," Korinna gets out. Sursum tries to protest, or agree, or something, but Korinna continues, almost inaudibly. "Take care of her, Amaranda."

"Korinna, no," Sursum says. "Korinna, you're supposed to—"

Maybe she said "It's my choice," maybe she didn't. But Sursum Annalisa is trapped by her words. The baby girl's name is Jesamae. She's a light haired.

The baby opens her eyes, and Amaranda takes a good look, and she can see they're green.

Her breath catches, and she's lost it completely when she looks over to the quickly losing light Korinna, clinging onto the life string.

No Fairlies have a mother.

"She'll live," is the last words Korinna's tongue touches, and she's limp on the table.

Amaranda feels it, and she sees that the other Fairlie feel it too. They're inching upward, invisibly, their postures are aging. It's not perceptible unless you know it.

"A tragedy," Sursum speaks. "Two. With the power of three."

"She's not a tragedy," Amaranda contradicts, and she knows she shouldn't have. But the green-eyed in her arms seems a whole lot more valuable now.

Sursum ignores. "Amaranda, take the girl. Let's move."

**Review? Beat me up. Tell me if this really just shoulda stayed on Word.**


	3. duo: alstromeria

**So I really have no clue what I'm doing but what ever happensss leeetsss beegaaaaaaahhhnn**

**This chapter is rated K-plus.**

**the lie of the fair  
duo: alstromeria**

**_Amaranda – Doudecim_**

She tugs at her shirt. The chair is supposed to be big but now that the night's gone by and she's 3 numbers older it's a bit less scary or authoritative or big.

She tries to get used to the thin straps now, since that was the only thing they had for kids her size, not quite petite, that was decent. Sursum almost didn't nod approval but let it go anyway. But not without an invitation to that chair.

Amaranda doesn't know where they put Korinna's body or if they moved her at all. The thought of that lifeless hair falling over the table, her lips still parted in goodbye, still lying down if Amaranda ever returns to the place. But things just don't happen like that.

"It isn't good that you had to see that," Sursum Annalisa says, at least. She's leaning back in her chair behind the table, and they're both in a room, and it's much more colorful than where the Fairlies usually stay. Shelves and frames. Chairs with backs. Books. Books aren't common. In her life, at least. But the way they are placed it makes Amaranda think that Sursum doesn't touch them too too often.

Sursum never says sorry. It's always replaced by another word. It shouldn't make sense why she doesn't—she looks just like the other girls, with the brown hair, scars somewhere, blue eyes, gray shirt, chronic scrutinizing look. She may be 16 tragedies old. She's not that old. But all Amaranda's existence Sursum's been the Sursum, the leader, the higher one, the one you "look up to." Maybe there's a book on Sursum's shelf that has the meaning of words and the meaning of "look up to" is "fear".

"I did," is Amaranda's response, as there's no other way to put it. Maybe with numbers come wisdom. Or advancement of language. Because Amaranda's always had a fiery tongue but it seems to enlarge. She's speaking by what she knows and that's that.

"I told you to leave."

"You never stopped me when I didn't."

"This will get you nowhere, Amaranda."

"It's not like I need to get anywhere."

Stumped. Amaranda should feel pride but all that's inside is empty days. _Korinna. The baby._

"I bet the whole barracks aged with that. We couldn't afford this."

"What does aged mean?"

Sursum looks over, annoyed. "Nothing you need to know, Amaranda."

She wants to ask why it's so bad that the child's here now. Why it's so terrible. A tragedy. The Fairlies grow by happenings, and it seems like all that's happening are bad things. It's been a long while since Amaranda advanced, but this was too sudden.

If Sursum cared so much about why it's so horrible, why not tell her? Life is a big want and what and wait.

"This is what happens when you step outside." Sursum sighs. "That child should have never been born."

"Why?"

"That was defying the rules." She leans over the table, that Amaranda now sees is a deep brown, and she peers over Sursum's hand to see what that big paper is she's holding down with her hand and Sursum snaps it from her view. "We don't let you go out for a reason."

It was never clear to her. There's all girls in the barracks, there's nothing of this one kind of person everyone whispers about called_ boy_, and Amaranda doesn't know why they're so harmful, so unseeable. So when Korinna snuck out for some reason that may have to do with a boy, and came back through some kind of gateway from the outside, wet, disheveled, somehow looking broken even though in one piece. Like she expected something to go one way…but it didn't. The object of curiosity, with all the "What does he look like?" and "Is it good?" (And why there's no s before he is beyond Amaranda.) But not after Sursum whisked her away to this room.

And for months Korinna didn't know why something was kicking inside her, but once Sursum figured out, she lost that brightness in her eyes. For months it was all hush hush. But now, that the irreproachable occurred…it's all let loose. It's been hours, but Amaranda can feel the gray words in the air about "I knew it was gonna happen" and "What eyes do you think she is?" all when prying ears are gone.

"And the name. How could she pick that name? Seven letters. Expected, coming from a seven lettered herself."

"What's the letters have to do with it?"

"Everything! Do I have to repeat it with you?"

"No!"

"Well, clearly, you forget. Anything below eight is unacceptable. We don't follow _her_ example." And _her _is sad with all the contempt in the world. A poisonous word, when laced with others that most definitely implies the girl, the reason for all this. The Fairlies have a beginning, as timeless as all seems.

"Amari was the fair princess." Sursum repeats. Amaranda never knew the princess of what, but that isn't important. "She met a male. Though forbidden, she drew him with her eyes. _Green_ eyes. She was never to love but what they did was forbidden so we're forever promised to stay like here."

"Pure."

"Be careful with that word."

"I'm supposed to trust all this happened?"

"Believe what you want," she snaps. Amaranda feels a sting that lingers maybe a bit too long.

"Why is it so bad?" Actually, _what they did_, whatever that may be, sounds nice. To be wanted. The word love is another colorless word, one of the things you hear every once and a while that it becomes so unimportant to know.

Sursum's eyes say the answer. You won't understand. "And she lied to her surroundings and those she was vowed with. The ones who stayed truthful rebelled. And our side drew into submission and stayed on our own." Amaranda sometimes Amari's side creeping backwards into a building very much like this and staying put. "We became the Fairlies. The Veritans watch windows every day for revenge."

"So we're shamed to never see outside."

Sursum never directly agrees either. "You are not human. Fairlies don't get to be human. And the princess of the Fairlies is not one to admire. A new generation of blue-eyes were born. Non-rebels, valuable, mostly. Every now and then, a green-eyed sees the barracks. But we never want this to happen ever again. So we're careful with our numbers. And we don't go below eight."

Amaranda plays with the silver ring on her thinnest finger. Sursum Annalisa has one too. They all have one. What's the reason of that? Some other tangent Amaranda doesn't want to hear.

"I need you to watch the child."

"Korinna needs me to watch the child."

"Korinna is dead now."

"I _know _she's dead now, Annalisa!"

It wasn't smart to go down that road. She's silent, and it's the loudest _no_ in the world. "Korinna was supposed to lead with me. As Sursum, I have the final say in who keeps an eye on her." She really doesn't: if the mother said something, that mother's word is what happens, and Sursum's just lucky that what she wanted, apparently, corresponds with Korinna's. "You need to make sure nothing happens."

"Why me?"

"You may be able to try to understand the differences that the child possesses. You're different, Amaranda. While your outside says _duodecim_, you're older inside, and that's a product of your power."

"My push."

"You're able to push the childlike-ness away. You understand, you're _awake._ That's what we need."

Amaranda has a tough time thinking that; she feels like all her thoughts now are still young and strange. But there definitely something peeking through the lack of light, something she wants, that she can't quite name yet. Many things, many names. Her power is so meager, just being able to excuse thoughts, but it feels like there's more to uncover.

"You still need to learn, though."

"I can take care of myself."

"You will do exactly as I say."

There really is no free will in this, just yes. But Amaranda doesn't speak. It's almost defeat, but she doesn't let herself belief that.

"And the good thing is the child will age quickly too. It will only take minor tragedies to get you both older. She'll be walking in months. She's already made sounds."

Amaranda still doesn't know what that word means, age. And why doesn't Sursum just use the child's name already? She's called Jesamae, there's no sin in that. Or…

_What's a good thing?_ Her mouth almost makes, but she's sure she's supposed to know by now, that _asking questions like that get you nowhere, even though you're not going anywhere_, and so on…

"Leave, now." Annalisa waves her away. Amaranda's still playing with the ring, circling it around her finger continuously. "And don't play with that."

With a chilling stare, Amaranda circles the ring one more time and rises from the chair and gets out of that miserable place.

**Review. TMITRJSOW. (Tell me if this really shoulda just stayed on Word.)**


	4. tribus: magis

**There is a slight chance this story may go on hiatus. I'm in a show and I just received the rehearsal schedule and it's gonna change my life a little bit for the next 2 months. It seems unlikely that I'll actually have to stop, but a good deal of the rehearsals are on Fridays and Fridays are my writing days and that might have to move to in the week but the week is a tough time. However, that doesn't mean I won't attempt to continue on in normalcy, I'll try (LOLOL I JUST DID THE THING) but I wanted to throw that out there. I'm already taking action and this is being written on a Thursday so it's most likely gonna all smooth out. Also, my feelings are dead, thank you Uncle Rick, so this story may be devoid of emotion for the next couple chapters. PICOOOOO**

**Again, I've been imagining this scene for months but I never thought I was gonna actually _write_ it.**

**This is rated K-plus.**

**the lie of the fair**  
**tribus: magis**

**_Amaranda at tredecim_**

She is twirling around again, as dreamers like her do.

Amanda just has to trail behind with an amused smile while the little one swirls her skirt and makes melodic noises. Maybe it's a song, but she doesn't know.

"Why are the walls white?" Jesamae had once asked, and Amaranda couldn't find a responses.

Reaching for words, she'd said, "It's for us."

"Oh. I don't really like that. I see colors all around! There's green in me, purple on her, blue on you…and red, everywhere! Red es-pesh-awee. I just _love_ red."

And after that, Amaranda's decided that she can answer any question.

It's eating time in the meeting place but both Fairlies weren't hungry. Steely, pleased, lost looks from the tables stuck to the floor. Jesamae coming up to the girls with greetings. When Jesamae had first gotten to this age she'd been looked at as the oddity. Now it's more of a game.

Amaranda is enjoying this new feeling of _smile_, because it makes her feel good inside, not empty, not incomplete. The little child is maybe _septum _but there's an ageless quality, something that makes her beyond her number, something that doesn't happen. Excluding Amaranda. They're like each and not like each other and it just makes is much easier.

Jesamae's thoughts are scattered. She's got views never released into the world before, attaching words to complex beings, being able to name everything and anything because her mind is so expanded. Golden hair growing beyond her shoulders bounces around with her. She's short, and wiry, always using run as a form of transportation. She wears a white shirt with the straps a bit thicker that Amaranda's, and a long skirt that swishes and spins and maybe Jesamae's favorite thing in the world, and it's yellow, a light yellow. Her eyes are green, but they're so bright and so un-blue that it makes Amaranda happy, it makes her happy to see how unlike Jesamae is from the others. How not shallow, how not limited to one frame of mind. How she thinks in colors that are non-existent, unfeeling. Of course, that may not be the other Fairlies's own thought, but Jesamae makes it seem so without trying. Amaranda doesn't show this investment in Jesamae outside, and she's not even sure if Jesamae knows it. But she'll speak impossible things for her.

And Amaranda wants to hurt anyone who looks at Jesamae like that. Sursum is the worst.

Sursum's turned into a name Amaranda doesn't want in her mouth. Every day it's more apparent how Sursum Annalisa doesn't understand, she doesn't how Jesamae is different and how perfect it makes her and how…_special_ she is.

Every look to Sursum is one of contempt. It's only by this that she can feel like she getting it all back.

"And the kid's moving again," Seramarie says, smirking. She and seven other Fairlies sit slumped over at a table Amaranda just passed by, and she lets Jesamae prance on; someone nice is bound to watch her.

"It's still a surprise to you?" she returns.

"It's just funny, she hasn't lost the spark yet." Nicoretta jumps in. Julialynn nods along. Nicoretta meaning, she hasn't become sad, or dark, or gray-faced always like all of them. She's right, Jesamae's a peculiarity. Still smiling.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. It makes her easier to handle." Kind of.

"I wouldn't think so," Seramarie shrugs. And she lapses into Latin and the others go back and forth. The smallest one in their group raises her hand to greet her. This one's always looking at Amaranda, trying to say something. What comes out it is a whisper.

"Hi, Amaranda."

"Oh, hey, Amilina." And she's off to find the girl.

She catches sight. "Be careful, Jes," Amaranda says to the little one, who stops skipping only to plop down on a chair in the middle of the eating place. Chatter resumes on in the room, creating a dull roar in their ears. It's a new thing, shortening each other's names, to Jesa or Jes, and it makes it feel more particular, exclusive. Jesamae waves Amaranda over and she crouches in front of her.

"I think one day this place will be nothing."

"Is that so?" Amaranda plays, her front row of teeth making an impression in her bottom lip in her suppressed grin.

"We will all be different, and then, this!" Her arms are risen, and she brings them back down suddenly. "Down to the ground."

"Oh." Amaranda tries to imagine the day.

"But it'll still be here. It'll still be standing."

"Okay." Doesn't make sense, but it rarely does.

"Ah-mah-manda?" Jesamae has the toughest time saying her name. Amaranda doesn't mind it at all, she actually has taken a liking to it, and sometimes it's formed into one word. She doesn't know how to make the word in her brain, but she relies on Jesamae's voice to say it.

"Ah-huh?"

"Life is weird." It sounds like such a not-Jesamae thing to say. Amaranda almost laughs. "It goes on and on and on but then ends. How is it so big?"

Amaranda seems to have the inability to imagine an end to all this; since of course, it's been like this her whole life.

"That I don't know, Jesamae."

"But there's so so much to it all," she continues. "Out of these walls. Delight and open space and _love_…"

There's that word again. Amaranda's taken back; hearing it said flies her back to that night, when she held the child in front of her in her own arms when the baby couldn't speak or theorize or be Jesamae. When things changed _so much_.

The tragedy that brought light peers in for an attempt. Amaranda tries "Well, we're inside," she says. "We're here. We've been here. We'll be here."

"Yes, but after life, it'll be so so huge." She slides off the bench, now skipping away from Amaranda. The older girl follows.

"And what is there, after life, Jesa?"

"More."

She continues to hop along, Amaranda trailing behind at the same pace, not being able to hold in her laugh because it's all so good. But Jesamae stops and Jesamae never stops and once Amaranda looks up she finds Sursum to be blocking the child's next move.

"You don't run like that."

"Why not?"

She's so innocent. Sursum has to find her words carefully. "Because you don't, and that's why."

"Let the girl go, Annalisa," Amaranda shifts her weight onto her one foot and crosses her arms. "She's just having fun."

"You don't _have_ fun," is the steely response.

"It's okay, Amanda," Jesamae says. The older one's name, in Jesamae language. Sursum bends down low and takes Jesamae's shirt. The little one is wide eyed, almost amused.

"No shortening names," she fumes. "That is the name she is given. What you said is below eight."

"It doesn't really _matter_," Amaranda throws, feeling her anger rising each letter.

"Yes, it does." Sursum Annalisa shifts her focus to the girl and glares. But Amaranda isn't able to stare back because Jesamae's hands are on her ears and her eyes are squinted and she's silent and Amaranda stops breathing.

Then the screaming begins. Sursum's still got hold, receiving a blast of shrill cries from Jesamae, who's taking deep breaths to louden the shouts. Jesa's sensory overload, Amaranda thinks. It happens when stress is high, but it couldn't have struck a worse time, because all eyes are on the scene and that's making it even heavier.

_"I feel you!"_ Jesamae shrieks, and Amaranda's been trying to figure out what that means for months but it's never came clear. Now she's desperate, but there must be a shield between the struggle because Amaranda can't move her feet to rip Jesamae from those arms.

"Annalisa, _let go!"_ her despondency leaks through her words. It's so so startling to see her Jesamae like this. Her Jesamae can't be hurting, not one minute. But Sursum remains still.

Amaranda shouts. _"Now!"_

And almost as if the caring was the reason for the shift, Jesamae's flung into normalcy, and she's collected again. Amaranda doesn't know if there were tears on her own face but she knows it's red. Sursum straightens and lets Jesa go roughly and Amaranda's never seen her this caustic before.

Amaranda hears it said, and she hears for the first time, how they say eight in English but all other numbers in Latin. But that must be a thing that they all do that she hasn't caught on yet. And what takes over this in her mind is Jesamae's asking eyes into her, and all pain and hate and ugly things just melt when Jesa looks like that.

"I want to still call you A-mah-mah-manda," Jesamae says so harmlessly.

"It's okay," is the response, as she grabs her hand and retreats. "I want to call you Jes. We can."

**Review?** **TMITRJSOW. **


	5. quattor: scintillae

**i really don't know what im doing**

**the lie of the fair**  
**qauttor: machinam**

* * *

**_Days later  
_**

Her ambling is paused when the little one flies up.

Jesa's soundless, save her footfalls squeaking, until she comes to a complete stop in front of Amaranda. They're in the middle of the gray hallway, deserted right then, and not the safest space. Amaranda doesn't want to speak too loud but Jesamae's probably not going to say anything earth-shattering.

"Ah-mah-manda," she nods her head. She's getting better with the name. Nowhere in other's presence, granted. It's so endearing when she starts like that, waiting for her attention.

"A-huh."

"I have an idea."

"Go."

"What if we weren't here anymore?"

Amaranda needs more. She's so general, you've gotta ease out more. "What?"

"Leave. What if we left?"

And Amaranda needs to bite back her immediate, loud refusal. She's _tredecim _and she's starting to get a grasp of what exactly happened to Korinna when she snuck out and she's not sure if she likes it or not but it caused death so it must be bad.

But it gave her way something happened that wasn't entirely pleasant for one person and it makes it an impending _no. _Sursum would teach otherwise and say that it makes all the things bad but Amaranda knows better than the rest of them, that something good came out of this.

She's hit with something she thinks is emotion. All the moments of that night have a do over and it's painful to see. She can't say in words why, but maybe Jesamae could. But Jesamae wouldn't understand. This is the circle that may be Amaranda's undoing because of how _hopeless_ it all seems.

"I don't think that's gonna work." What she wants to say is that your mother, if you can try to understand what a mother is, got hurt real bad and died because she tried to escape this fire and she had you, she had you Jesamae and it's perfect that you're here but not perfect that Korinna isn't. And that you're not understood. And that we're not understood.

These hidden words don't come out and they never will. "Why?"

"I just don't think—"

"Are you scared?" It's said with such sweetness but the unintentional sting stings something fierce. "That it won't be good?"

"I know that getting out would be good, but—" Okay. She's just dancing around the subject now. If this is what dancing is like, not really getting to the thing but trying to make it sound as pretty and soft as possible. "Jesamae, I don't—"

"How long till it all goes down?" Jesamae asks. "I don't think it's our place here."

That releases something. "Jesamae, that's the problem with you! You say these things and you don't make sense!"

And the words are already forming scars. Jesamae blank faces, but that's the worst thing Amaranda could ever feel from her, is that she doesn't accept or agree or concur with her words.

"Jesa, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that," and she keeps her in an embrace, taking the back of her head in her hands. Jesamae rubs her nose into her stomach, wordless. "I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't," is her muffled, one worded reply, as she snuggles closer. "It's fine."

Amaranda laughs. The forgiveness for one half her age shouldn't be the most important thing in her existence but it is. "Thanks."

"But I still want to think about it," Jesa adds.

"Hey, you don't need permission from me to think anything," Amaranda said, managing to pull away un-harshly, holding her shoulders. "All they say about thinking good and pure and right…you can't always follow that."

And Amaranda knows. She's been having thoughts…It's nothing. She's fine. But sometimes how she sees some things…she knows she's getting older and that's probably normal but she's birthed some kind of rebellious mindset, silent protests, thinking whatever she wants and not caring because Sursum can't get into her thoughts. And she's gotta teach Jes the same thing, otherwise, her light will go out.

So when Jesa says this, the wheels start turning. An inkling of belief, small, but there. "Okay. I'll still think that."

She attempts. "Good. And…I'll try to think that too."

**Review?** **TMITRJSOW.**


	6. quinque: flamma

**omg im actually very excited about this one**

**btw i forgot to mention: please listen to "mad world" by alex parks. i mean, majority connects, but its really making an impression on me. especially for this mc. so listen because its a really deep song and im enjoying creating my own views about it.**

**please pm with any questions…im trying to be clearer.**

**This chapter and the last chapter are rated K-plus.**

**the lie of the fair**  
**quinque: flamma**

They're unoccupied, sitting against the hallway doors, the older one playing with the little one's hair, strand by strand, the blonde's head on the brunette's lap.

"Have you been thinking?" Jes asks. Meaning,_ have you decided yet about this whole place?_

Amaranda sighs. "I don't know." She stops and puts her hands across her chest and looks ahead. "I'm still looking for a reason."

Then, Akelamae's shaky voice on the announcer: _"All girls please report to the meeting place. There's been some…ah…things happening. Some changes. Rules. Sursum will go over them. ...Thank you."  
_  
And the reaction of all feet shuffling toward the destination. The two girls look to each other for an answer and there is a face staring blankly back. But to avoid the stampede they figure they better move so they stand up and keep holding hands as they join in with the crowd of blurred gray.

As the room comes into view Amaranda sees Sursum and a couple of the older Fairlies standing on the higher platform near the wall. Sursum's the most stationary one up there. All of the others are shifting uneasily from side to side and this couldn't possibly be good.

Amaranda picks Jesa up, the little one's legs wrapped around Amaranda's hips. "Stay close to me," Amaranda whispers to her, not wanting anyone to get their hands on her. Jes nods, her ears ready to listen.

All murmuring is hushed and Sursum comes forward. She speaks loud enough, no projection is needed. Amaranda cringes.

"Some unneeded thoughts are being noticed," she starts. This implies all the things in the world. "This is not good. And some things need to happen in order to stop it all."

Amaranda grabs Jesa tighter. "Some new rules. Age restrictions. All Fairlies under _octo_ and over _octodecim _will be moved to other barracks."

"What?" is Amaranda's lame response. She readjusts Jesa, throwing her hip up, Jesa rubbing her eyes. She might not understand yet.

"We're keeping numbers stricter," Sursum adds. "And that means some will be changed."

Amaranda feels like a number that she hasn't learned yet. Sometimes the Fairlies smuggle numbers to each other like gifts. The larger the value, the more unheard it is. And she's so heavy it's beyond that.

And the suddenness of this all? Why now? Nothing has happened. Jesa's young and there's a chance that she's saved but there's also a chance she's not.

Sursum leaves none in the dust. "There will be some people coming in. They will be looking. They are here to understand you and learn. I expect nothing questionable to come to me."

And that's all that there is on the subject. Fairlies that feel their life is dead anyway yell out _why _and _how_ and _is it good?_

Seramarie shouts the kicker over all the madness: "Are they boys?"

Amaranda can see that this is the closest that the whole congregation will ever get to a meeting. A meeting? Congregation? What's a meeting? There's been some words, creeping insider her head, that's she's not quite grasping the meaning of. But they're new and not used and it's strange.

Sursum's eyes. "There will be men."

And the turmoil. Amaranda does not like this one bit, at all. No, it's scaring her and all these new things aren't benefitting Jesamae and that's the only person who matters right now. But the little one's thoughts must be flying on air and not in this room.

"With these changes, some of you will be required to be looked at." Whispers. "Testing you. Nothing they say will reflect on the conditions of your life here. You need to let them in. The Project needs to know you all."

That's the worse thing Sursum Annalisa could have said. All Fairlies are taught, directly or indirectly, to keep a guard up that blocks their true feelings, and masks the hurt, and what is shown is a lie, no matter how real it seems, because behind the gray faces is a dark dark inside. Their lives depend on horrible things happening, depend on pain in their hearts. And some would just rather feel the dull pulse of pain than the explosions, the fireworks of tragedies.

"They will testing the quicker aging ones first. To get a foundation for their Project."

Amaranda and Jes are quicker aging Fairlies.

"No." Amaranda says. You can't take us.

And that is all. Sursum and the others step down, and an aisle poisoned by scorns is created for them. The ones with Sursum plea with their eyes, clearly trying to get across that they were pulled into this. And choice isn't something that a Fairlie gets.

"This is not good," Jesa simply says.

"It's not," the older one responds. She needs to speak with Annalisa. Amaranda can see Amilina rubbing her own arms in front of her.

"Watch Jesamae," she plops Jes down. Amilina reaches out to say something but Amaranda's not stopping.

Sursum's almost at the exit which leads into the hallways but Amaranda taps her shoulder and the leader spins around and waves the others to move on. They shuffle their feet along, looking back uncomfortably.

She has Sursum's irritated attention. "What, Amaranda?"

"I won't have this."

The refusal screams for miles. She's said it low enough not to cause a scene but those words color the backgrounds red and Sursum is being said no to.

"That's just too bad."

"_This_ is what you would call unfair. Locking us in, poking and prying us like we're _test subjects_…"

"It hasn't even happened yet. You don't know how it's all gonna go about," Annalisa sneers.

"Yes, I do. I know exactly what's gonna happen. You're stealing our lives, that's what's happening."

This has never happened before. Amaranda's never been so sure about something. It's like answers are being solved for her. It may come with age.

The scariest part is teetering at the edge. Who knows if tomorrow the world will crash and her numbers will rocket to the sky? After_ octodecim _there seems to be some kind of unknown. Amaranda can never be secure with her life in the moment because of how easily bad things happen.

"And the age limits? What in the absolute-?"

"Girls in those ages cannot be exposed to anyone else outlying from those brackets. It's an unstable state, where they can't understand their feelings."

"It's not us that are unstable, it's you!" Amaranda feels it all falling into place. "It the fact that you can't seem to realize that we have emotions, and we can name them just fine!"

"Maybe you, Amaranda," Sursum says. "But not the others."

And that could be close to truth. Because of her push she can make it through the clouds (What are clouds?) and say, even if only partially, the why and how. But she knows that she's not the only one who's human in this building—everyone, everyone everywhere, has a need to know that the hurt does sting. Except Annalisa. She doesn't get to feel good, not in Amaranda's opinion.

And this opens up a whole new discussion…new barracks? New people? _More Fairlies? _Life itself has been trapped in here, her whole existence, and the idea of outside is starting to become something reachable. _More people like me?_ The thought is gargantuan.

What is real life, anyway? Out there, when everything's left behind. Is the pain spread out? Is it the cause of advancement? Or the cause of...nothing?

Other people. They're all being separated. There's no one in the barracks that's _octodecim_ now but there could be in the future.

"Is that what it's about?" Amaranda asks, her voice lowering. "Love?"

Annalisa is blocked.

"Are things happening in these barracks that shouldn't be? People leaving? People coming?" This is her understanding of the word.

Her face gets closer and she throws her words. "The reasons I do what I do are my reasons."

"When I fall in love with a boy, or a girl, or whoever I'm supposed to fall in love with, I'm going to be ripped from them…" And her voice is breaking, becoming flooded, but she forces it to stick together. "And I can't be a mother."

Sursum's stony faced and still. There's one good thing about Sursum and that's how she can hide what's inside. But most of her action imply that she hasn't any feelings.

"It's all black inside," Amaranda says out loud. She then continues, "It's not the rules that did that or Amari who made that happen. It was you, your ban to love!"

"I only have so much control."

"No, it's all you, because no human with their feelings in check would ever do that to someone."

"_You_ are not human."

Amaranda shouts now. "I wasn't talking about _me_. You can't tell me what I am."  
_  
Why_, Amaranda asks it all, shaking her head with lost tears in her eyes. What is the reason…_for all of this…_and how can any _good_ come…

It's a tyranny. Amaranda is no longer a disciple of Annalisa anymore. While the rest of the Fairlies age Annalisa does too but she can slap any number to her name. They're all stuck with her.

And while Amaranda and Jes have been able to somehow resist submission into darkness, the same can't be said for all…

Amaranda can only manage one last refusal. "Because….you know what? I love someone. And maybe what I feel isn't exactly love…but it's _very_ very close."

Amaranda doesn't stick around to see the reaction because there will be no reaction and all she's doing is spitting a never-ending chorus. Making her way to Jesa who seems no as excited as always, she wipes the tears out of her eyes and swallows.

Words are ugly. They seem to no longer carry a meaning. Trust is snapped and reduced to just something that wears when you touch it too much. She knows three faces that she could possibly trust in and one of them she's not close enough with yet and one's dead.

"Come on, baby," she says to the sleepy Jesamae, picking her up again, nodding to the helper. "Thanks, Ami."

Amilina wants to say something but it doesn't come out.

Amaranda knows what needs to happen. She feels her finger pulsing and sees her silver ring once again. She forgets about it so much because it's just always been there. Like everything else.

"This is no longer the place for us," Amaranda says to the girl on her shoulder. Jesamae nods. "It isn't safe."

**Review? My feelings are out of control.** **TMITRJSOW.**


	7. sex: nox

**im saying bye now.**

**YOU DON'T THINK YOU NEED THIS NOW BUT YOU WILL SOON: I AM UPDATING ANOTHER CHAPTER, AFTER THIS ONE. ****_I AM UPDATING ANOTHER CHAPTER._**** AFTER THAT THAT'S IT. THIS IS A VERY SHORT STORY. i said that in the first author's note, right? most likely next week. maybe not. ill be on my way back from disney. if not friday first thing saturday. this and the next are a continuation.**

**btw im on my way to disney now, thats how much I love y'all, possibly making my family late to update tlo**

**but ill be gone a whole week. which is hilarious because we're driving to baltimore to get on the plane. heh. ill probably remember eighty different things about this story that i was supposed to put in**

**but as for the matter of farewell for this story i just wanna say thanks. regulars, pop-ins, question askers, big theory makers that ill be torturing right whose name is elle, those true, those not. its been more a huge journey for me because this is the first time im implementing my newly unearthed style in rapid succession and its very tiring and very fun. i got to take a look at what really gets across (and be verrrry unclear :P). and got to create a real, literal theme. and that's kinda big for me because all ive been able to say about my multichapters is "believe in urself" with disney channel/justice clothes wearer hearts and smiley faces all around and uncapitilized titles. i felt like i had a motive with each decision. felt maybe just a little bit like a real author who inflicts pain on her subjects and never apologizes**

**ill be doing some oneshots. after this. i have about a billion i wanna write. i do have another very short multichapter in mind but ive got everything BUT my lovely end-kicker and im very much resisting the urge to post the first chapter and leave it for a year. so im gonna try to find some kinda climax on the way to maryland because that's one of my strongest places for story forming.**

**okeee well then. hope you liked it. couldnt be more proud to say that im actually kinda proud of this mc**

**I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO SAY THIS EVEN THOUGH I THINK YOU KNOW IT…THIS IS NOT A SMUT CHAPTER, _TH_****_IS IS NOT A SMUT CHAPTERRR, _****_BLAME THE CREATORS OF LATIN FOR THIS NUMBERRR_**

**and now, a reminder…as of isw, all my plotpoints are planned long before and have something to do with it all…**

**i am _so_**** sorry. see?**

**This chapter is rated T+.**

**the lie of the fair**  
**sex: nox**

**_That night_**

In the night, they've found the exit. It's been hidden away, all those years, by another door. Through that and down some tiny platforms stacked on top of each other and there's a window.

So that's where the Veritans watch for revenge, Amaranda smirks. Well then. Liar.

The window is on an angle, leaning toward the two girls and out. It's clouded and rusty, with a chain from the left side of it dangling dangling dangling. Jesamae pokes it.

"This'll have to change," she says. "Soon."

"Okay," Amaranda says, only taking that information for what it's worth at that moment. All that has to do with the barracks will quickly slip away and all there will be is Amaranda and Jesamae. Maybe they can even call each other different names.

She tries to pry the window open with her hands but they aren't strong enough. The chain brushes against her palm and she sees now, what to do. Waving Jesamae to stay back, she heaves the chain, her fingers feeling the burn afterward. A creak. Tiptoeing back, Amaranda dodges the window falling forward, hanging by threads on the bottom side.

Amaranda can see something, through the gap, that is new. Seeing this _more _she grabs Jesa's hand and lifts her up onto the ground of the new world, never taking her eyes off the little one, and pushing herself up as well. Collecting herself as she stands up. Stepping away from the window.

This air, it's new, boundless. Spinning around she sees the…outside, of her barracks, _their barracks_**, **is brownish bricks. And there's more. Surrounding her, all of the same. Except... directly in front of her, there's a gap, a gap from the bottom to the top, the ground to the sky, she realizes.

She creeps forward, the cold (This is cold, she can feel now) drawing her, and it's the best feeling she's ever felt. All the pain hides for a little while and she feels special, dangerous, something…tugging at her…something at the pit of her stomach…

Impulse is telling her to take off that ring and she does. And when it drops to the ground the wind starts, and this is the power that's she's had all before, but bigger, and better, and realer. A push. Pull.

_Is this was Amari felt…_it's perfect and wonderful.

"They are pretty and new," Jesamae says, looking up. Amaranda points her eyes to the very top of the sky and there are the lights, the flickering lights, burning, staying. An almost black sky. "It's probably lovely to be there."

"Yeah, well don't float away from me," Amaranda warns. "It's probably great out there, but we gotta see."

"You won't see anything."

And they turn around. Sursum is standing footsteps away.

Her hand is in their direction. Her hand was law, it was the voice of why and how. Not revealing much, but giving just enough to keep you questioning. Now, there's nothing more innocent than what's been heard before, because now that hand is death.

"No," Amaranda says. She has no power over us.

No, not _Sursum_. She's lost her bonds. "We're not in your power anymore, Annalisa," she says. "So just let us _leave."_

"How could I ever do that," Annalisa says coolly. There's nothing in her hand but it feels so harmful.

"Amanda, I don't like this!" Amaranda sees Jesa's ring has slipped off too and she looks like she knows much more. A sensory overload? Cannot happen now.

"I've been keeping you brats in that miserable place for too long." It's like she's outside of the whole thing. "You're way too dangerous to keep in there."

"We've always been there," Amaranda's getting scared. "It's never been different."

"It would be much better if it was different. It was okay when you were there because you were young and didn't understand how to do it. But when_ she_ came and you got so old you both knew how to push the terror away," She gestures to Jesamae with her hand and it lingers in that direction. "And that's way too strong."

"No," the pusher can scream now_. "Don't!"_

So that's how it's been. Amaranda and Jesamae could rise above Annalisa's horrible reign. Annalisa's power….to make other people feel.

But the two with refusals' powers were suppressed. Now that they're free…how do you control it all...

The thought occurs. "You're not even a Fairlie," Amaranda says.

"Always been and always will, but at least I'm back to where I'm supposed to be," Annalisa answers. She sneers. "The Veritans will bring large change, and I know that."

"We don't need change, we need to get better!" She then feels the imminent need to protect, defend all those tossing and turning inside that building. "We've been hurt way too much. One more…that'll kill us."

"Amanda, no." The shortened name again. Amaranda turns the right, the little girl next to her, shaking her blonde head, her eyes wide. There's something in her Amaranda's never seen before. "You have no idea…of their powers…"

Annalisa's words make Amaranda feel dead, with no power needed. "Kill you? That's exactly what I'm trying to do."

And her hand twists. Jesamae drops. Amarnada lets out a terrible refusal and she pushes out her hands and Annalisa almost looks sorry but there's no time for sorry and Amaranda throws out her hand and that flings Annalisa back and there's a thump and a crack and a smack and no more sound but Amaranda doesn't need to look.

She's on her knees next to Jesamae, squeezing her hand to breaking, repeating as to make it better, "Don't leave me. Don't leave me. _Don't leave me_, _you can't!"_

Jesamae's lying on the ground, quickly losing light, but the lingering motion even after her breathing is almost gone is her finger lazily twirling around the pool of crimson covering her stomach.

"Red…" she says. "Such a pretty color."

Her finger drops.


	8. septum: novissime

_I lived on dread; to those who know / The stimulus there is / In danger, other impetus / Is numb and vital-less_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

**_the lie of the fair  
septum: novissime_**

**_Moments later_**

"No…_no_…"

"Amaranda, I have to take her inside."

Amaranda sees Amilina's ever-peering eyes on top of her. The pusher still hasn't let go of Jesamae, as if releasing her would murder her very memory. "Are you taking _her_?"

They both know who this_ her_, a new _her_, is. "We'll keep Annalisa's body out here. She never has to be inside that building again."

The sound of the evil one's name makes it hurt more. Amaranda buries her head in her arms and bends over. "Oh, God…"

"Hey, Amaranda…"

"I don't want that name anymore."

"…Okay. Um…"

"I know what you're gonna say. I can't. I can't go back. I'm getting out of here."

"Please…I want you to. There's too much pain here."

"How will you handle it now?"

Amilina waits. Amaranda's a bit thrown off. All she's thought of Ami, her whole time being there, is the young girl who doesn't speak much. But it's evidently not the case and Amilina knows a lot of things. She came outside after she heard the noise and had been trying to convince Amaranda to let them take Jes inside. To proper rest. Because the child doesn't deserve to be in this now ugly alleyway. An alleyway, Amaranda gathers. Information has been sprinting to her and it couldn't be worse timing.

Ami begins. "I guess…I'll take over. It'll be nothing like it was, I promise."

"Oh, I know. I trust you." She really has no clue what to think, but anything's better than what happened before.

Ami swallows that word and sighs. "I'm so sorry this had to happen to you."

"I…I don't know how to respond to that." She sniffles.

"You don't have do. You've talked enough. …Now…"

It's another flood. Amaranda covers her mouth to stifle it. "Jesa…"

"I'll come back out and help once I get her inside with someone," Amilina says. "I know a few things about how to get out safely."

"No…" Amaranda yelps when Ami bends down to take Jesa's body. Amaranda does something to the little one's forehead that she thinks is a kiss and almost expects a smile back but there's nothing. _Nothing. _Just stillness. This hurts even more…

Amilina has the little one and she's going down the window's hole.

_"DON'T HURT MY JESAMAE!" _Amaranda screams, and she knows that she's truly gone, never to be again, she's taken every day as another day and not a day before the light's taken out of everything. _And living becomes painful._

The aging never comes. She doesn't feel the expansion or the growth. And now she can see, growing up in this new world, advancement isn't dependent on anything.

And so many things reveal themselves that were never apparent when Jes was with Amaranda…Jesamae was her energy, her source, and now that she's dead Amaranda has nothing to work from.

All this time, they were trying to leave the hideousness of life. Not knowing it was so good outside. But only if for a minute. After tonight Amaranda doesn't know if anything can look beautiful, ever. Beauty, Amaranda thinks.

_Jesamae got to leave. _It's a horrible thought to but it's entered her brain and it's gonna haunt her forever.

And the most terrible thing, surpassing all misfortunes, is the fact that if Amaranda didn't get mad, and finalized their immediate departure…they'd still be inside the building, with no one dead. It's all her fault.

_It's all because of me._

What are barracks even for? Armies. Sooner or later things were gonna get messy but Amaranda knows and she can't ignore that with time she would've thought of a better way to get out of it all.

And she can't go back.

She plops down, and with the sudden roughness of the ground several more sobs are released, and she's drowning in misery, because all of the bad things in the world have happened to her, _only her_, it seems, and it's. Not. Fair.

A scuff.

Amaranda looks up from her mourning and sort of becomes self-aware: There's a world out there, and she can be heard. There's a tiny figure and it's, _she's_, peeking from the corner of something in front of her.

At first Amaranda thinks the world's being cruel. Then she doesn't. She stays still as result of her numb being and she doesn't run away or call. She waits.

The figure steps out of the shadows and into seeing light. All Amaranda can understand is the dark, dark hair and the wandering arms and a sense of wanting out. She knows that sight.

And with this she rises to standing and tries to see farther but the girl comes to her. She's running, breathing audibly, shaking her head and the tears shine when fallen in the light. Amaranda doesn't know to pull away or not but the black-haired one runs into her arms and stays there, and hanging on tight, hanging on.

"Who…" Amaranda kinda gets out.

"I can't stay in there anymore!" the girl exclaims.

These words register with Amaranda as connected to the barracks but she doesn't know this girl and she's most definitely not normal. Amaranda doesn't know humans but of her limited knowledge she can pull out that this girl is…similar…in ways not understandable…

Her soul seizes. She feels Jesamae, all around. She feels her, but only in the air. "Let me see you, baby," she says to the girl, and manages to peel her off enough to hold her shoulders and see her face.

It's the face of an innocent, a hurt innocent. She black hair falls straight. Some type of long-sleeved top that protects her from the cold. And the so un-blue eyes…green as anything, green as Jes…

This girl is not Jes but Amaranda wants to protect her like she did.

"Don't take me back there," the little one shakes her head. "They hurt me and it's getting bad and I don't wanna be there!"

So the coming down is starting, and a whole new order is beginning. Amaranda's done her piece, she's rid of the evilest threat: limitations. And as the little one gets more upset Amaranda is the one to hold her closer and whisper gentle things and she feels almost kinda starting to become not empty.

"It'll be good…" she tells her, daring to take the little one's hair and combing it through like she's so used to and she's so relieved because the little one doesn't freeze. "I'll be with you. I'll come with you. That's what I was about to do, anyway."

She stops. "What's your name?"

"Jessica," is the answer, muffled in Amaranda's shirt.

She now knows what she has to do. Everything that happened before didn't make too much sense except for the hurt. But it doesn't mean anything now. "I'm Amanda. Can I call you Jess?"

Amanda looks out to those pretty and new stars, somehow, maybe, possibly, offering that more. "You and I will leave together. We can't be here anymore."

* * *

_As 'twere a spur upon the soul, / A fear will urge it where / To go without the spectre's aid / Were challenging despair_


End file.
